


Dark Water

by FloodFeSTeR



Series: Gods & Goddesses the Winchester Way [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Altered Mental States, Begging, Blood Play, Body Worship, Bondage, Brutal Murder, Castiel Is So Done, Dean Makes a Deal, Dean Talks Dirty, Dean is a Tease, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Being an Asshole, Dirty Talk, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Goddesses, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Loud Sex, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Poor Sam, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Struggle, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sadism, Scattered fluff, Shameless Smut, Spiritual, Torture, Triggers to rape, Vaginal Fingering, biting kink, light abuse/consensual abuse, no actual rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:10:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4422635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloodFeSTeR/pseuds/FloodFeSTeR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>** UNDER CONSTRUCTION **</p><p>Rosie was blind when she met Dean.</p><p>Hysterically Blind.</p><p>Dean is a predator and instantly takes a liking to the compliant, naive young waitress.</p><p>One night together begins to warp her brain to depravity and submission, takes her to places she never thought she would go.</p><p>When he returns three weeks later, he's definitely different but still intoxicating.</p><p>And when she regains her sight? He decides to have some fun with her, all while making her get used to the fact that he isn't human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rosie went blind when she was thirteen.

The doctor called it 'Hysterical Blindness', from watching a traumatizing event.

She didn't remember what that even was after thirteen years, she had been so consumed with getting by without her parents, as a blind woman in a world that didn't care about her handicap. She was worried about getting by on her own, not why she went blind in the first place. She managed to get a job, make a best friend that cared more about her than she did sometimes. But life as a waitress only took you so far and Rosie was getting bored with life, like she had many options.

Then he came in, one late night, at the end of her shift. Casey was busy in the back packing up leftovers for the both of them to take home, and Rosie was washing plates when she heard the bell ring on the bar.

"One second," her voice was small and she had to clear her throat. "Sorry, I said one second."

"I heard ya."

Her shoulders tensed but she didn't really know why. Maybe it was how deep his voice was. Like, seriously, his voice was the deepest she had ever heard in her life. But she hummed as she finished off the plates, putting them in the strainer and then she dried her hands off on her apron, smiling in the direction she knew he was. She heard the stool grate against the tiles and furrowed her brow, hearing a zipper rattle and the creak of leather.

"What would you like," she whispered.

A beat. "Don't you need a pen and paper?"

She chuckled. "Sir, even if I had one I couldn't write. I'm blind."

"Great," he grumbled.

Her smile faded. "I'm sorry sir, I can get the other server…"

Silence. Well, not really silence, there was Casey singing to a faint song – horribly, might Rosie add. There was still the patter of rain on the windows and all that jazz, but then there was the softest chuckle, from the man. He was chuckling…why? Rosie shuffled awkwardly, feeling a little out of place and kind of embarrassed. She wished he would say something, anything, so she didn't feel like such a fool for no reason.

"Oh sweetheart," she jumped as his hand covered hers on the edge of the bar – jesus, he had big hands. "No…no, I want you."

She should have known there was more than one meaning to that. She just thought he wanted her to get him a cup of coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

They're in her apartment.

They're in the entrance hall of her apartment.

And he is not gentle, pushing her hard against the wall, pausing to admire the way she shutters, back straight against floral wall paper.

Her eyes are closed and her hair is wild; he ripped out her pony-tail when they had crested over the doorway of her apartment building. She was scared – but she had told him to come home with her. Her fingertips dug into the wall as she trembled, knees buckled in towards each other.

"Damn," Dean muttered, lunging at her again.

She whimpers as his lips connect roughly with hers, surely bruising them. His fingers press hard, running up her jaw line into her hair, gripping the tender roots forcefully. She shudders and arches into the wall, her chest pressing against his, her right knee cocking. He opens his eyes and watches the ripple of her lids as her eyes move behind them, searching, _scared_.

He smiles against her lips and untangles his fingers from her hair, fumbling with her thighs and pulling her legs up around his waist before he goes for her throat. He grabs onto it with his right hand and works his left hand up her blouse.

She knocks her head back as he cups her breast in his hand, sending pleasurable shocks up her spine as his fingers tease her through the thin fabric of her bra. He smirks as she rocks her hips against his; he was always so good at this, and she was so perfect.

Pretty, sturdy, compliant – blind. She had been when he met her, at a diner off the interstate. Sam was doing research on their latest case – something to do with a poltergeist they had been having trouble taking care of – and Dean decided to swing by, get some dinner.

And she had been there, in her pretty pink uniform, getting ready to clock off her shift. He had coaxed her into talking to him after a shaky start and she had asked him to take her home, whispered if he wanted to go inside.

She had plenty of chances to tell him to leave and honestly, he may be a predator – and he knew that was what he was – but he would have left if she had told him to.

Of course, she would have had to beg a little first…maybe suck him off.

He laughed and she tensed, her thighs pulsing and he ground himself against her, crotch-to-crotch. Her chest convulsed and she let him pull her arms around his neck while he attacked hers; she held on for dear life.

He backed away from the wall, looking through her hair to maneuver around the apartment. It was tiny, narrow, and all hard wood. The walls were floral and the couches looked antique – just like the four-poster bed he dropped her onto.

He peeled himself away from her, watching her grip the sheets tightly and bend her knees, giving him a good view up her skirt – no panties. He grinned again. Just… _lovely_ …

He stalked around the bed slowly, quietly, and listened to her shuddering breaths as she waited for him to strike from wherever he was. Her ears strained to find him but he moved perfectly and the floorboards were beautifully in sync with him – they did not creak.

"Take off your shirt," he murmured, voice echoing around the room.

She jumped and then hesitated, leaning back on her left elbow to work the buttons of her blouse open with her right hand. The thin cotton slid down her breasts, making Dean almost purr in satisfaction when it exposed the baby-blue lace bra she wore.

He stopped on the right side of the bed, watching her wait for him. Afraid and anticipating. He reached out and cupped her breast in his palm; she let her head drop back, chest heaving in pleasure.

"Such a good girl," he praised her, pulling his hand away despite the whine in her throat. "Now I want you to get on your knees…"

She hesitated and turned her head towards him but she had her head craned too high. "Wh-What?"

He growled. "Get. on. your. knees."

She did so smoothly, having a difficult time with the soft bed beneath her; it made Dean smirk as she fumbled to stay upright a few times. "Now what," she whispered.

Aw, she was so cute.

He reached out with a smile – one she couldn't see – and he ran a hand over her hair. She wasn't shivering anymore, she was ready.

What fun.

He gripped the hair at the back of her head and pulled her forward, crashing her lips against his. Their breath began to get heavy again, she was getting bold enough to reach for him. He pulled away abruptly and slapped her hands away, glaring though she couldn't see. She fumbled backwards, knees bent under her, and he groaned at her heaving chest. Her brow was furrowed and she looked ready to pout, but the fear was back in her features and he liked that.

"You don't do anything unless I instruct you otherwise," he growled, licking his bottom lip. "Now, get back up to your knees," he began to pull on his belt, dropping it to the floor.

It was almost cute as she scrambled to her knees again, wobbling in her efforts on the bed. She shuddered as he dropped his pants and caressed the top of her head, hand slowly stroking down to her shoulder and brushing off.

It was all about the teasing with him, he just wanted her to squirm just a little longer, have her near begging for it.

"You're not gonna..." She trailed off and swallowed while he palmed himself, watching her with pin point pupils. "You're not gonna...stick it in my mouth...are you?"

He raised an eyebrow, seeing true terror on her face. Again, he may have been a predator, but he wouldn't rape this girl. Obviously someone had forced her to suck them off somewhere along the road, probably after she was blind or when she was young.

"No, baby doll," she let out a shuddering breath of relief. "We're just gonna have some fun," he paused. "But I won't take any shit from you, got it?"

She nodded mutely and he smirked, reaching forward and around her, slick left hand leaving a quick trail across her back as he unclasped her bra. She and her nipples stiffened when he pulled it away, a whistle caught between his teeth. He dropped the bra onto the floor and braced his right hand flat against her chest, pushing her back.  
She willingly went down and the gasped, back arching as his fingers immediately snaked up her skirt, hitting home on the first try.

"Dean," his name was a mix of a breath and a moan as her hips thrust down on his fingers once.

He wasn't moving, he was watching her slowly breaking. She bit her lip and moaned, wanting to thrust down on his hand but he had his other hand on her throat.

Finally, his thumb stroked over her inflamed clit and she let out a noise that sounded like a cry. She shuddered as he did it again, his index finger twisting and hooking up into her, his middle finger twitching and stroking what he could.

"Come on baby," he whispered against her throat, his tongue teasing the edge of her jaw line.

She whimpered, fingers digging into the sheets instead of his skin like she craved. She just wanted to touch him, this was far more personal than he wa trying to make it.

" _Aah_ ," she crooned, eyelids squeezing tight and walls convulsing around his fingers. "A-ah _Dean_ ," she had to crane her head against him.

He didn't stop her, he just kept teasing her to the point where she felt uncomfortable down there. But she didn't protest, her orgasm was stretched because of his ministrations so she most definitely was sticking to this and refraining from protesting.

But, no sooner had the thought fluttered through her mind, he pulled his hands away, from her throat and nether regions.

His lips attached to hers and she was more than responsive. He flipped up her skirt, not bothering with taking it off; she was glad she had snuck into the bathroom and tossed her panties, her energy had said she wouldn't need them.

Boy was she right.

She cried out when he thrust into her, it was almost brutal in its entrance. He didn't stop though, he stroked her through the pain. Her legs cocked, knees straight up on either side of him, his body sliding an inch closer to her. Her right hand reached up, fingers curling as far as they could around his bicep.

The sheets were beginning to chaff on the small of her back, but after the second orgasm, she didn't care anymore. She didn't have much experience in sex. In fact, Dean was the third man she had slept with, the first two were...less than pleasant.  
She bit her lip, swallowing down the bile that rose at the thought and arched, her body now exhausted with the new shudders wracking her tiny frame.

"Ah, fuck," Dean groaned, pressing his forehead into the bed beside her head, tugging at some of her hair but she was trying to close her mouth around the silent moan on her lips. "Ah...ah fuck," he grunted, hips thrusting sporadically.

And then it happened.

She felt him flood her insides. It settled a dreadful thought in her head and she had to ask.

"Condom," she whispered.

After a moment of catching his breath he tried to sit up but just ended up twisting his lips towards her ear. "What?"

"Condom, Dean," she whispered meekly. "You didn't use a condom."

After another beat, he chuckled and finally pulled out of her, only moving to her side. "Doesn't matter," he yawned.

She tightened her fingers in the sheets. "Okay..."

 

~~~

  
He never liked waking up in a girls place.

He grumbled as he pulled his head out of the sheets – God _damn_ they smelled like sex – and looked over at Rosie. She was curled on the edge of the bed, in a tight ball and she was softly snoring.

He smacked his lips a couple of times, tasting sleep, and pulled the sheets back to stand. The bathroom was close and he thanked the Lord for that because he had to piss like a Russian race horse at the Kentucky derby.

  
As he flushed the toilet he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and his lips twitched as he ran his fingertips over his chest, over the raised, red welps and then grabbed his right shoulder and pulled, looking at his back.

"Damn, bitch is a scratcher," he chuckled.

He looked into the room and watched her roll over in bed, breathing in deeply through her nose. He rounded the bed to her side, pulling the sheets back a little to see he hadn't left a single mark on her back. He could have swore he dug into some flesh at some point, must have imagined it. He jostled her head a little, raising an eyebrow at the bruises up her throat and her jaw line.

Okay, he had made several impressions.

She hiccupped, which almost made him laugh because it scared her awake. "Dean," she whispered.

"Yeah," he reached for his clothes. "I'm leaving."

"Wait," she sat up quickly, shaking her head; must have gotten a head rush, damn didn't that boost his ego. "Wait, where are you going?"

He tugged on his clothes, grunting as he did so. "Gotta pick up my little brother."

"Your little brother," her brow furrowed.

"Yeah," he rolled his eyes. "My little brother, we're only in town for a few days and I just wasted one with you," well, he wouldn't call it wasting.

As he headed for the door, she spoke up, eyes still closed as she held her sheet against her chest; like she had anything to hide from him, he had seen that and more last night.

"Maybe you can stop back by again sometime."

He smirked.

"I like that idea."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems my calculations on posting a be chapter were a bit off...but hey. I didn't know I'd get a hold of a phone tonight.

_**Click**_.

That was most definitely _not_ a part of her dream.

Her dream had been filled with enough depraved yearnings that, even though her heart was racing and there were heavy steps in her apartment, Rosie's thighs were slick and she was sensitive when she adjusted her legs.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the pillow she had been clinging to and she jumped when she heard a bit of a scuffle, or maybe it was just the intruder stumbling...two intruders. Her skin prickled when she heard the handle of her door click and still heard steps lumbering around her apartment.

"Please," she whimpered when the door softly shut and the steps approached her. "Please d-don't hurt me," her voice was hoarse.

The edge of the bed dipped but she couldn't move, fear rooted her to her place on the bed. She kept her arms wrapped around her pillow as her body shifted, feeling arms on either side of her, sinking into the bed.

An instant moan draws from her lips as she realizes the subject of her dreams' desires is licking his way up her neck. It's hungry and insistent, _so damn **beautiful**_.

She doesn't even hesitate in digging her fingers into his hair. She ignores the faint wetness between her fingers when his roughly yank at her panties, her breath hitching in her chest when he gives a third and final yank.

"Those were cute," she whined despite the situation.

"Shut the fuck up," he rumbles, the scratchy stubble on his jaw rubbing her raw against her clavicle. "Fuck, you smell good."

He inhales deeply and it makes her thighs quiver around his hand that is already driving her nuts by barely stroking her folds. She arches into him and a needy whine climbs up her throat; his fingers are at her throat in a second but his other hand continues to tease. It's hard to swallow around his fingers but she relaxes and complies, it makes it easier even though her head is spinning and his grip is definitely not loosening.

"Dean - holy _fuck_."

"Out," Dean's snarls to an unknown party.

His fingers continue to writhe against her and her cheeks flush in embarrassment, even after the door clicks shut. She doesn't mention it because it'll piss him off and she doesn't need that, she just needs him and that hand to keep doing what they're both doing so well.

Finally, _finally_ , his fingers - middle and index, if she's not mistaken - plunge into her.

She lets out a strangled moan, back arched and eyes rolling in her skull. Three weeks and it only takes him sliding a finger in her for her to cum. She had probably been halfway through an orgasm in her sleep because of the dream but she didn't realize how bad she had it for him and his fucking hand.

"Come on, baby," he whispers, nibbling on her earlier as she rocks on his fingers, a thick shudder rocking her frame at every moment. "That's a good girl...come for daddy..."

She doesn't care about how vile the analogy is. She just wants him and those fingers that - _sweet baby Jesus, how is he doing that?!_  Its nothing really, just long fingers hooking home into that sweet spot that has her nearly sobbing mid-orgasm.

"Miss me that much," he murmured, tongue thickly swiping at her cleavage as he makes his way down.

"D-Dean," she whispers, hands up and curled around her head, chest heaving as nervousness tightens in her belly. "What're you doin'?"

He chuckles and her walls clench around his fingers as he extracts them; she hears this vulgar sucking sound and the image in her head has her blushing like an inferno.

"Don't worry baby. I don't bite," he paused and chuckled again. "Hard."

It takes her a moment to comprehend his quest... and then she feels his hot breath waft over her core and there's an odd sense of fear wracking her chest.

But his tongue gently swipes up her folds and she's ice cream on a summer side walk.

She lets out an airy moan and her hands fly down, threading through soft, sticky, hair as he continues to let the tip of his tongue be all she is allowed. It dances all over the place before wiggling into the tip of her slit, brushing over her clit briefly on its descent. Her hips buck once and his teeth nip at her labia, making her tense with the warning but she's moaning again in two seconds flat.

"Dean," its another airy moan, her fingers running through his hair. "Please...oh _God_."

"I know I'm good," he flicks his tongue over her clit and she whimpers. "But I'm not that good, I know that babe."

" _Ahh!!_ " She tossed her head back and rolls her hips without consequence as his tongue buries itself into her hot, aching core.

She's really unsure what to do with herself at this point, inexperienced in most areas of sex and oral prominently - she always thought there was some monster down there keeping them from doing anything but sticking a hand down there.

Now that she knew what she had been deprived of, she was kind of pissed.

But then he starts doing this thrusting thing with his tongue and she could care less about the others. Her fingers strain to tighten in his hair but she doesn't know if it'll piss him off or not. His own fingers work under her ass and then grab handfulls, pulling her as close to smothering as he can get to his mouth.

Does he enjoy it that much? He acts like a man possessed.

Pretty soon she can't move and he comes up for air, giving her a taste of her own juices as he suctions his lips to hers. She wants to make a witty remark but her tongue is tied when he pulls away, presumably to remove the clothes he's wearing. He's still fully dressed and she's wearing a nearly see-through tank top.

She hears fabric hit the floor, the clunk of heavy boots and the rattle of his belt collapsing. And then it's skin-on-skin, his whole body pressed against hers and his aching, throbbing member against her thigh. He seems to like kissing when she just wants to get down to business.

Something is different about him this go round. He actually seems polite, passionate - had he missed her? He peels his chest from her and yanks her up, helping her out of her shirt so he can grate his teeth over the sensitive underside of her breasts; the hand not holding her up snakes between them and grabs his throbbing hard on, stroking it teasingly on her slick folds.

"What were you dreaming of," he purred in her ear, pressing her back into the mattress. "What could possibly have you dripping before I was even here?"

She swallows as he swipes a thumb over her left nipple, making it hard to think. "I..."

"Tell me," it was a demand in that rumbling, threatening voice of his.

She lets out a shuddering breath as he teases her entrance with the head of his cock, slipping it an inch beneath her folds and then back out. "You," she shuddered. "You were behind me..." He rumbles and she swears she heard him say rough, but it could be her fogged mind. "You...you were fucking me senseless." His chest rumbles in pleasure. "And..." Her cheeks seemed to get hotter, if that was possible. "I could feel it all...every drag and pull...it hurt. Oh fuck it hurt!"

He thrust into her brutally and she let out a pained scream, her walls shuddering around his cock as he sunk in to the hilt. He bowed over her, making it hard to breathe but she smothered her face into the slope of his shoulder, hands clinging to his broad shoulders as he began to roll his hips.

"Fuck," she whimpered. "Fuck me - please!"

He obliged, her cries coming out hoarse after the fourth stroke; somewhere deep in the back of her head, she had to worry that his hips ached at the force he was using, hers did.

She didn't love it, but something inside of her had seemed to snap in his absence. Her mind created sicker scenarios to get through the nights. He had broken something in her and like Hell she was gonna let him go again.

"Dean!" she bucked against him as he sunk his teeth into her right shoulder.

His tongue pressed and massaged the raw skin and possibly blood away but it still ached and his hips remained brutal. She hooked her heels against the small of his back and she shuddered, moaned, completely forgetting they had an audience in the next room.

"Holy fuck," he groaned into her ear, his thrusts becoming sporadic but stronger.

She would have to remember to make a trip to the pharmacy the next day as she felt him flush her insides with cum, she couldn't get pregnant. She didn't last time and that had to be pure luck, but she couldn't just forget a pill this time.

His whole weight rested on her and she tried to relax, not struggle, but that's hard when a full grown man is just using you like the mattress you're on. She pressed a hand on his shoulder and, though it was weak, he got the message and sat up. Him pulling out of her was a tender ordeal and she felt like she couldn't move as he rolled to her left.

The room was filled with their haggard breathing and she swallowed, unconsciously fluttering her eyelids.

And she stiffened.

It wasn't much, but it was slow and...she could see. A blurry - yet steadily firming - outline if her ceiling fan that had once just been Darkness.

She let out a strangled cry and, despite the protest in sore muscles, she clasped both hands over her mouth.

"What the Hell is wrong with you now," Dean griped, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at her.

She shook her head slowly and looked at him, taking in a fuzzy image of his face and wanting to cry again. "You're beautiful," she blurted out.

His face stretched and relaxed into disbelief. "What?"

She let out a hysterical bubble of laughter, ignoring the blood on his cheeks and his hair. "You're beautiful, Dean," she giggled again. "I can see again!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has, in fact, been edited. Originally, I had my cousin wrap it up for me and she mistook an idea for another story and put it here. The subject in question will eventually be touched on but we're not anywhere near that introduction.
> 
> Sorry for any confusion.

"I can't believe I can see again," Rosie whispers into the mirror, then frowns. "I look like I haven't slept in weeks."

Dean snorts from behind her and, though she's sure he's heard it a million times before, he's beautiful. He's half naked, boxers on his hips and she does plan on doing what he wants - she wants to see every bit of what they do between those sheets.

He's covered in scrapes and small cuts, hair appearing still feather light aside from the clumped patches where blood waits to flake away. He looks as worn as she does, if not more, and it brings out that side that wants to coddle him, fix him up.

But he won't let her do that.

"How long it been since you could see," he questions, like he's genuinely curious; she'd like to hope she is.

"Years," she murmured, cheeks tinted pink as she stands there, not allowed to put on clothes like he did. "I haven't seen a thing in years..."

He smirks and she finds it glorious. "I'm so damn good in bed, I bring back peoples sight," she wants to chuckle but then he gives her a genuine smile and she...she almost forgets how to breathe. "Wanna share a shower?"

She doesn't say no, just watches the muscles in his back flex and roll as he turns on the water, flicks up the shower. He looks down at her and she wants to tell him so much, but she can only kiss him. She grabs his face and kisses him deeper than she has before, pressing herself against him.

He tenses under her touch, and for a moment she thinks she's pissed him off.

But then his thick arm wraps around her waist, holding her tighter to him, keeping her as close as possible. She tugs down his boxers, kicking them back with her toes as he pulls her into the water.

It makes everything slick and she feels like she's been lit into an inferno coupling her skins temperature with the waters. His fingers roll over her, digging and massaging into her plump hips; her eyes flicker half lidded and she is mildly alarmed to see the red tint washing between them - their lips - but she should have expected as much, considering how matted his hair was.

And she's scared to admit she relishes the taste of his tongue bathed in a sprinkle of blood.

He pulls back and her eyes flutter closed as he licks his way down her throat, suckling where he can and his hands continue to roam. He hunches to get at her breasts, drawing an airy sigh from her lips; she rocks her head back and cups the back of his as warmth continues to pulse from his lips.

She rocks her hips against his as he suckles on her left nipple, his tongue dancing between tender and rough against the puffy nubbin.

"Dean..." She breaths and bucks, her leg sliding to straddle his left.

He cocks his knee, driving it against her clit and she gives a sharp cry, pressing hard against it. She whimpers and grinds against his thigh, egged by the pleased rumble in his chest; she doesn't even notice him switching to her other breast, just knows it feels utterly amazing.

He pulls up for air eventually and she has to open her eyes, has to see him. And she does. He's so close, panting in time with her; her hips slow to a stand still.

"Drop your leg," he commands and, even in that trembling tone of his, she follows and drops her leg.

She braces her arms back against the wall, watching him sink to his knees, hands still gripping her hips. Its an image she could get used to, his bright green eyes hooded and filled with lust on her; she's sure her own expression is mirrored somewhere in there.

She lets out a short gasp as he ducks his head, teeth nipping at the insides of her thighs. His fingers knead the backs of her thighs and she has to try to pull all concentration into not collapsing as he nears her burning core. Its positively aching already, denied its release on his knee and fired up by the sight of him. She rocks her hips even before he reaches her, her whole body erupting in goosebumps as he lightly traces her lips with the very tip of his tongue.

"How bad you want this baby," he whispers and she barely hears him over the hiss of the shower head.

"Please, Dean," she absolutely begs. "Please...I need it!"

He chuckled and she feels it thrum through her, makes her loins fucking quiver. He winks up at her and spread her thighs a little further, leaning in slowly enough for her to whine again.

And then he just buries himself in her.

This weird noise comes out of her, kind of like a sob and a scream, a cry of utter joy as that writhing muscle buries itself between her dripping folds. The tip digs into her walls, laps at her like a man dying of thirst. His right hand leaves her thigh and replaces his tongue, twisting and massaged the incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves she can never reach with her own finger. He adds a second finger instant, having to fight for friction beside the utter slickness of her pussy.

"Dean," she gasps out, bucking her hips once against his mouth before his teeth squeeze a small tid bit of skin. "Please," she stares down at him, chest heaving at the sight of him. "Oh God, Dean!"

She does love saying his name, and he doesn't seem to mind as she can tell he's smirking without being able to see all of his face.

His tongue circles her clit in heady circles, making her whimper and twitch, begging to just thrust up once but she doesn't want to be full blown bitten. She gasps as she feels the edge nearing, her whole body trembling and the pleasure escalating. The friction of his fingers against her sensitive muscles makes her grunt in time with every thrust, fighting for her peek.

And she's denied.

She snaps to, gaping at him as he pulls all contact from her pussy away; she almost feels angry. He grins at her, menacingly, and she sees the water rolls over his lips like a freshly waxed car.

"God your beautiful like that," he murmurs as he bows over her again, hooking her thighs up around his hips. "Give my baby brother a show, sweetheart."

She doesn't even get the chance to be confused or shocked as he brutally thrusts into her.

She moans, loud and long, and he groans into her damp hair, like he hadn't already been in her nearly twenty minutes ago.

She wraps her arms around his neck as he starts to thrust into her, his swollen cock dragging delightfully against every nerve and fiber in her body in ways his fingers just never could.

His lips brush against her ear. "Use your fingers," he whispers, punctuated by a groan as she squeezes him inside of her.

She lets out an airy moan as she pushes an excited hand between them, her walls convulsing and drawing a new groan from him as she finds her clit. Her fingers begin strong circles, but they are frantic and unevenly paced, though it does the job.

She is a vice around his cock.

The fucking isn't as frantic as before. This is slow and human, this is almost loving save for his teeth digging into her skin and the way she feels the slick skin of his length plunging into her. He kisses her throat gently every now and again, pulling at her heartstrings without her permission.

"Fuck," he grunts as his hips lose pace but strengthen.

She is moaning and raking the nails if her free hand through his hair, she doesn't even have it in her to be concerned about anything other than the orgasm that slams into her like waves at high tide. He lets out this loud, deep rumble at the peek, stilling his hips hard against hers.

She gasps and rubs her clit frantically, eventually having to abandon her endeavor as her wrist aches and the nubbin becomes far too sensitive to touch any longer.

"Is this an inappropriate time to make myself known," a rough voice questions from behind Dean.

Rosie screams, holding tight to Dean as he buries his face into the crook of her neck; she sees a misshapen figure through her shower curtain.

"Castiel," Dean growled. "I'm gonna fucking kill you when I get out of her."

"I'm guessing it was inappropriate," the man sounds genuinely confused.

"Get out of my bathroom,"Rosie shrieks in embarrassment. Her eyes widen when the figure just disappears, her fingers tightening against Dean's taught skin. "He..." She whispers. "He just disappeared..."

Dean grumbled, pulling away from her slightly, bracing her as she tried to catch her bearings on the wet shower floor. "Yeah, he does that shit," Dean grumbled.

 

~~~

 

She can see and it still amazes her.

Rosie takes in the beauty of Dean, the plainness of his movements, the shine of his beer. He sits in the love seat in the corner of the room, across from the couch where his brother sits.

He is a giant of a man and a handsome, but Dean has an unearthly quality to his good looks that overshadows him. He also has a different temperament than his older brother (it's odd seeing Dean as older, but that's only shown in their height). Sam is gentle but there's something in his eyes that says he could kill with no remorse.

Going by the blood on his clothes and skin coupled with the kind smile on his lips, he has killed with as much remorse as she suspected.

"Told you, Cas," Dean bites out at the man in a trench coat that stands nearest to her. "I'm perfectly under control."

The angel - yeah, he's an angel; it didn't take as long as you'd think to handle the fact - looks briefly to Rosie and she reads 'under control my ass' in those dull eyes. He's quite a strange character, not someone she would suspect to be an angel; honestly, she didn't know what to expect of angels.

"I find that very hard to believe," Castiel mutters, shifting uncomfortably.

Dean rolls his eyes and Sam runs a hand down his face. "Cas, seriously he's fine. No outbursts and no trying to kill me or anyone at random."

Oh yeah, Dean is a demon.

She supposed it was the shock dulling her reactions to whatever was happening in her apartment.

An unplanned visit led to perfect sex, her sight returning, perfect shower sex and then angels, demons and all kinds of supernatural explanations.

Castiel had said she was involved in his reasoning for being here, but had yet to divulge that information and she was waiting patiently.

"I'm sorry," okay, maybe not patiently anymore. "But...I, uh...I would like to know why you had to come into my bathroom in the first place."

God, she burns at the memory.

And then sees the angel and Sam both get uncomfortable, Castiel for seeing, Sam for hearing and Rosie hates herself for both happening.

The angel clears his throat and Dean finally seems to show some interest, setting his beer down on the coffee table as everyone hones in on Castiel. His eyes flicker to each face in the room and the suspense is killing Rosie. But he doesn't say anything that's useful, just bores his eyes into Dean's and the man grunts.

"Fine," he snaps and Rosie appears confused, Sam does not. "I'll be back in an hour," Dean grumbled as he stood, glaring at Castiel.

Castiel nods slowly and Rosie squeaks when she's bathed in sudden shadows, winces at the clap of wings and looks around when its just she and Sam. She raises a shaky finger, pointing to where Dean had stood, where Castiel has stood, and utters one word.

"But..."

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

"I really am sorry about just showing up at your place in the middle of the night -- but Dean said it was okay."

Rosie actually chuckles, staring at the contents of the take out she had brought home the previous night. "Scared me is all," she paused as she chewed on a stringy piece of chicken. "But once I knew it was Dean..." She shook her head and smiled at Sam over her shoulder. "You're both fine, really."

The look Sam gives her is sheepish and also a little concerned, but she had indulged in his concern enough and made that clear. Once Dean and Castiel - a demon and an angel, friends, it made her feel slightly crazy - had left, she had asked questions she needed of Sam. Who they were, what the did, was this all true or was she just in Hell; he had informed her, with a bitter laugh, that Hell was not so sweet. The way he said it, the way he moved around the word and mention, she desperately needed to know why he would have such a tentative reaction. But he had asked to use her shower and when she remembered that he was severely lacking in the clean department, she had showed him where she knew everything to be and the subject of them was dropped. But her curiosity had not abated, still, she wouldn't just poke and prod him. She would just try to pay attention where she could and see if they dropped any clues. The plan sounded increasingly dumb to her.

"Why do you let him treat you like shit?"

The question she had been waiting for, a question she has been asking herself but not too harshly. She didn't really understand why she let him treat her so roughly, its not like she got true pleasure out of pain. But Dean was a confusing mixture, the demon piece made a little more sense to the behavior but Sam had given her the time when he had become this. So, the first time they slept together, he was human and very rough.

She was getting a headache.

Rosie sighed and scrubbed at her forehead with one hand, closing her take out with the other. "Dunno," she mumbled as she put away the food. "I just..." She swallowed, gripping the edge of the counter as she leaned back. "Can we just...not?"

Sam raised his hands and then rolled the pen between his fingers, going back to copying down something from his laptop. "Sorry," genuine. "I just...Dean's always been crass but I've never," he paused and cleared his throat. "Sorry again..."

Too cute.

Rosie swallows roughly, tucking her hands into the back of her jeans as she walked around the counter. "You seem really focused on whatever you're working on," she hummed as she approached; he eyed her from a side glance as she settled next to him. "Mind me asking what you're doing?"

She got an immediate response: A shrug with eyes still focused on that screen. "We didn't just show up here for no reason," Sam scratched at the back of his neck. "I mean, that much you could tell from the conditions we were in," Rosie nodded. "We were ambushed about fifty miles from here by rogue demons claiming to follow Lucifer and the Lamb."

Rosie blinked, slowly. "Lucifer..." Sam nodded. "You mean the Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub, old scratch - that Lucifer?"

Sam nodded, apprehensive of the quick breaths coming between bruised lips. "Yeah...yeah, that Lucifer," he would leave out the part of his whole predicament with the vessel deal. "Don't panic, please."

Rosie took in a breath, mouth wide and heart thrumming like a war drum. "Sorry," she shook her head. "That's a little much..."

"Yeah," Sam licked his lips. "I really do feel bad about bringing you into this but now that Dean's a demon...well, there's no talking him out of anything."

"I wouldn't think so," she murmured and then cleared the lump from her throat. "What did you say about a Lamb?"

Sam seemed to blank for a moment and then he inhaled sharply. "Right, the Lamb," he licked his lips. "You know anything about the Lamb of God," Rosie shook her head slowly. "The Lamb of God is the one to unintentionally cause the Rapture, the Seven Years of War. Now, we've already managed to do this once before," he chuckled at the look Rosie gave him. "But this time, its in stone. Its supposed to happening. To cleanse the Earth, Heaven and Hell. Its not just a world wide event, its on a cosmic scale."

"And...demons are looking for the Lamb," Rosie tried.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, but we don't know why really. They don't need the Lamb in their possession for the Rapture, it just happens. But I'm just guessing they want it so they know when to fight first, without Heaven getting the heads up first."  
"I don't know jack about any of this," Rosie murmured. "Well, I mean obviously I know the basics but I only know enough to fill a pamphlet."

Sam chuckled and pat her knee. "That's fine," he exited out of several tabs on the laptop and then shut it down completely. "You don't have to know anything, you're not fighting."

"Lets not jump the gun just yet," Sam and Rosie looked up abruptly, seeing Dean standing against the counter. "We may have a bit of a problem."

Sam stiffened on the couch, drawing Rosie's attention for a moment. "What do you mean," his tone was low and almost dangerous.

"I fucked up."

"What did you fuck up, Dean," Sam urged, rising to his feet.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, pushing odd the counter as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "We have a bit of a demon problem around town and we have to go. Like, now."

"Wait, what," Rosie sputtered as she jumped to her feet. "I -- you're taking me with you and I can't just --"

"You're coming and that's that," Dean snapped before returning his attention to Sam. "Cas is coming back to watch her, I'm taking you out to Willow Creek."

"Please, Dean, don't be any less cryptic," Sam grumbles. "Fine, fine when do we leave?"

"Now," Dean said slowly, eyes flickering to Rosie before back up to Sam. "Can you give us a minute?"

"Don't have much of a choice I don't think," Sam paused. "But yeah."

Rosie basically twiddled her thumbs as she stood there, watching Sam gather what he was working on. She stepped to the side, looking up sheepishly at Dean as he approached with the door clicking shut. He stopped once he was chest-to-chest with her, or rather chin-to-clavicle; Dean was freaking tall. He's hot - well, that's nothing new - but temperature wise, its almost uncomfortable and yet she wants to swaddle herself in it. She was impatient staring up at him, waiting for him to do something.

He ducked his head in one movement and pressed his lips again hers. Another tender kiss, another gentle thing she didn't necessarily want but with the easy pressure, she realized her lips were now bruised in some places and was thankful for the handling.

"I'm not gonna be gone for long," he murmured and she nodded, eyes closed. "And then you're coming with us."

She nodded again, her right hand tightening in the fabric over his abdomen. "I want you," she murmured.

He chuckled softly. "I know, baby girl," she swallowed nervously. "But patience is a virtue."

"Dean."

They both cringed at the sound of Castiel's voice and found him standing behind Dean. He wasn't looking at them, and Rosie would have to thank him for not blatantly staring like he seemed keen to do. Dean grumbled and pushed away from Rosie, giving Cas a mildly annoyed look before he was out the door.

 

~~~

 

"Why do you court with Dean and his abuse?"

Rosie groaned and slouched in on herself, hand gripping the top of the refrigerator door as she peered inside. "First Sam, now you," Rosie grabbed the milk and unscrewed the cap. "I don't know, okay," she splashed a bit of milk into the pot on the stove, hummed and then did it again. "Can we please not? Don't angels have something better to talk about than why I'm screwing around with him?"

Castiel actually chuckled, which pulled a slightly confused look from Rosie. She shut the fridge slowly and then walked back over to the stove when he said nothing else. Cooking an angel supper...another first for her, though he said he didn't need it she still felt awkward just sitting there with him. Dean and Sam had been gone for an hour now and Rosie was antsy, impatient. She wanted Dean back, wanted him near her but she also didn't want to fucking leave with them. She wanted to stay home and live her life, the life she couldn't see, but she didn't have a choice in the matter. Like Sam said, a demon Dean was hard to talk out of anything.

Great, now she was getting used to the fact.

"I think I'm going crazy," she rubbed her forehead.

"You are very sane," Rosie cringes when Castiel appears next to her, craning his neck to peer into the pot. "You did not have to do this," he murmured. "I do not require food."

"But food is delicious," Rosie chirped.

"I suppose so," he hummed. "You are a very kind soul, Rosie."

Rosie smiles at Castiel, stirring slowly. "Thank you," she paused. "If you're so opposed to Dean, why are you following him? Helping him? Seems a little...I guess, hypocritical."

Castiel shrugged. "Dean is a very good man, an unpredictable demon. He is a good soldier as well, we need him for this fight. We must find the Lamb before the demons do."

"Still don't understand why," Rosie sighed. "But enough about that..."

"I am surprised you are taking this so well."

"Or not," Rosie murmured then shrugged. "I suppose shock hasn't really went away yet...still feel like I'm about to have a heart attack whenever I stop talking so there's that."

"Am I upsetting you?"

Rosie looked over at him, saw his face creased in concern like a scolded puppy. "Not directly, no," she looked back down at the food. "But kind of..."

"I see..."

Cue awkward silence punctuated by the awful bubbling of beef and you have the moment down pat. Rosie really tried to ignore the angel mulling about behind her, but his presence was hard to ignore. He didn't stray far, but he wasn't glued to her back like when he first approached her. He continued to fiddle with things here and there, plucked up a picture frame she promptly swiped away and put back on the small shelf above the counter. Castiel stared at her back, hands still poised like the frame was still in reach.

"I have upset you again."

"Yes you have," she mumbled.

"Who were they?"

Rosie ground her teeth for a minute, clicking off the stove. "My mother and father," she said lowly, pausing to remember where bowls were. "Don't ask about them anymore than that, Castiel. That's my final warning."

A drastic shift in mood, but she had her reasons and he thankfully took the hint. He dropped his hands and wandered into the living room, feeling strangely comfortable. It must have been the relative purity Rosie still possessed, it saturated every corner of her apartment, clothing and everything in between.

"When do you think they'll be back," Rosie questioned as she stopped in front of where he had sat on the couch.

He stared at the bowl she offered for a long moment, taking it with a murmured 'thank you'. "They should not be too long," he took a hesitant bite of food and smiled at her. "This is good."

Rosie smiled back at him, sinking down into the chair Dean had been sitting in. "Thank you," she paused. "Why Willow Creek? What's out there?"

"It would be best for me not to say," Castiel said. "Sam and Dean were not even to know but that was changed when Dean left with me earlier."

"Long story short, I don't get to see," Castiel nodded. "Alright then."

It would be a long wait for the brothers to get home.


	6. Chapter 6

She feels so...strange.

Now that she can shower alone, she can watch the water pool on her skin, skid away to the shower floor. Rosie never thought a shower could be so consuming. But there she was, just watching water like it was the most entertaining/fascinating thing she had ever seen before.

Eventually, she had to get out of the shower, before her skin turned pruny. She inhaled the scent of her body wash, her lids heavy; it'd been a long day. Castiel should still be in the living room where she left him, hopefully not snooping like she had caught him doing several times. He didn't sleep -- something he had explained to her, even though she didn't ask for the details -- so that left only one pass time. Unless he was content to just sit there. Rosie didn't know what angels did, she was still stunned that there was one in her living room, a fact she hoped would quickly become numb to her. Dean had said she was going with them -- and she knew she wasn't being given an option on whether she wanted to or not -- so she hoped that would cushion things a little.

Wrapped tightly in a towel, she was oblivious to the black eyes following her as she began to pick through her dresser. She scrunched up her nose at some of the things she had packed in there, felt slightly ashamed at the array. At least Casey had, had the fore thought to buy her underwear for her...she was pretty sure she would have bought something grandma-ish to fit her depression about the whole blind thing; it looked like she had already followed that path with the rest of her clothes.

"Gotta agree," how could a voice that deep manage to be that silky? "The underwear is a nice touch. How bout you just put on that lacy black pair and come to me, baby girl."

Rosie looked down at the very pair he was talking about, tucked off to the side to where she had almost missed them. Had he gone through her underwear drawer? She didn't doubt it, but she still felt this need to scold him or be shocked. Rosie cast a quick glance over her shoulder to look at Dean, seeing him perched on the end of the bed. He had one leg crossed over the other, smirking lightly in a smug way, knowing she would do exactly what he told her to do. She licked her bottom lip and looked back down at the lacy pair now in her hands, her towel dropping around her feet. She almost cringed at the shrill whistle he gave, but her cheeks heated most as she wiggled into the pair. It felt cold against her skin, her fingers brushing over the smooth fabric as she turned around and approached him.

He was chuckling softly as he roughly yanked her between his legs, the rough brush of his jeans making her tingle. Rosie placed her hands on his chest to steady herself, cheeks tinted pink as she tried to look anywhere but into his eyes. He'd seen every bit of her before she had, and yet she was too shy to look him in the eye.

"Come on, doll," she trembled. "Look at me...I said, look. at. me."

She swallowed and looked that small inch down to his eyes; jeez, how big was he? "I'm sorry," she murmured, her thumb rubbing at the collar of the red button up he had on.

"And for what," his fingers dug in and kneaded the backs of her thighs, sending so many mixed signals.

She shook her head, bowing down against him; he tensed beneath her touch. "I don't know," she murmured against the slope of his shoulder. "I'm tired."

Rosie had an idea of how demons were supposed to act, Dean had given her plenty of examples. But, she was still slightly -- secretly -- pleased that the way he pulled her to him, on top of him, was so gentle her heart nearly broke. She wants to be wrapped in him and gets her wish, begging for his worship when he turns and presses her back into the mattress. His eyes are black as her breasts heave up towards him, her lids hooded and her lips whimpering. He has one hand wrapped around both wrists, pinning them firmly above her head. He keeps one leg pressed against her sex, her thighs trembling around him, gasping when she bucks up against the rude coarseness of his jeans; she can feel it through the soaked crotch of her panties.

"You want to demand somethin of me," he inhales up the length of her throat and she cries out so easily. "Think you got the balls to say it again?"

"You," she's breathless so fast, it makes her head swim. "I need you -- all of you! Please, Dean!"

"To worship you," he hummed as his tongue ran dry across her chest, teasingly close to her left breast.

Rosie wiggled beneath him, arching her head back to stare at his hands and their iron grip around her wrists. "Yes," her eyes flickered back down to him, a short cry coming from her lips when his tongue flicked over her nipple. "Dean!" she rolled her hips against him.

He chuckled against her skin, sending strange little spasms through her. "Demanding that a demon worships a pathetic, whimpering little human like you," she squirmed. "I knew I chose right," his teeth grazed over the skin of her clavicle. "And you'll get what you want, baby girl. Don't worry."

The words made her ache even more, made her whimper in distress when he pulled his knee from her wet folds. She watched him pull away from her, keeping her wrists above her head as he swayed on his feet. He shrugged out of the red shirt, her eyes trained on him as he pulled the black shirt off of him and let it fall to the floor. She had to take in a deep breath and hold it, greedy eyes watching him slowly tugging at his belt. It was the greatest tease ever, watching the end of that belt pop out of each loop, drop to the floor. Her eyes flickered up to his as her breath came in slow between parted lips; he was enjoying himself, watching her watch him. He likes the attention on him, and she liked giving him what he wanted.

But he had said this was for her.

And she'd take that too.

"Want me to drop them, sweet heart," he purred, slowly tugging down on the zipper.

Rosie nodded fiercely and then saw him arch an eyebrow. "Yes, please," she whined.

He chuckled and did as she begged, grinning like the Cheshire Cat at the way her pupils dilated at the sight of his swollen shaft. "Want me to lick that sweet pussy of yours before I fuck you with this," she trembled as he grasped himself; he didn't even flinch.

"Yes," she basically growled. "Please!"

"All this begging," he leaned down, swiping his tongue against the inside of her left thigh. "Things you do to me," he nipped at the inside of her right thigh.

"Dean," she breathes out, bucking her hips.

"Sit still," he didn't snap at her, it was more of a gentle coaxing. "Want me to do this right, hmm?"

She whimpered and gasped as he licked the crease of her thighs, teasing the jumping tendon of her groin. His eyes remained locked with hers, preventing her from looking away; not like she wanted to anyway. His tongue grazed over her tender nethers, eliciting a loud moan from her trembling lips. She couldn't help but close her eyes at the sensation, chest heaving and rolling as he continued to lavish her. Rosie cried out when he took her clit between his teeth, gently rolling it back and forth, sucking on it before he buried his tongue between her folds.

He growled against her when her right hand flew down to tangle in his hair, tugging at the roots. Her teeth ground together and she bucked up against his mouth, her thighs aching to close around his head. Her entire body trembled, trying to stave off her orgasm for as long as she could, trying to think of anything to keep the monster at bay but between her blatant need for this man -- this demon -- and the way his skillful tongue praised her, she couldn't hold out much longer.

"Jesus fuck," Rosie twisted her head to bite into her own wrist, having to release the slip of skin immediately when his ground her clit between his teeth yet again. "Do it again," she begged.

He pauses and she whimpered, arching her chest until he began a series of grazes and nips with his teeth. A throaty moan came from her lips as she came against his tongue, his fingers massaging up her thighs and hips, dragging her against him. She didn't even think she could enjoy that...she couldn't think at all right now, just moan and go slack beneath him. When she began to come to, he was kissing up her body, leaving his mark on every other stroke, making sure anyone who caught a glimpse knew she was taken. Her lids remained closed, purring and stretching as he inched closer and closer to her lips.

"I do love it when you give my baby brother a show," he hummed against her swollen lips. "Should see how red he gets when I come into the room..."

"Fuck me," she begged.

"A greedy little minx tonight, hmm," he gave her a quick, thick, kiss and she shuddered when he teased her by gently thrusting his hips into hers. "Want did you want me to do again, I believe I've forgotten."

"Dean, please," she bucked her hips up and was reprimanded by a smack on the side of her ass; she gasped in genuine shock.

"Don't get too carried away," he growled and her shoulders went rigid. "Now, I'm gonna fuck you," she went slack. "And you're gonna love it, I'm sure," she clenched at his cock as he eased into her agonizingly slow. "But take your time, enjoy the ride."

She opened her mouth to speak but moaned instead as he filled her completely, then pulled back before slamming his hips into hers. She jumped at the force and her legs wrapped around him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he set a brutal pace. She couldn't keep up, but she didn't make him do all the work, though she was sure she would and not feel bad. Rosie arched and groaned when he pulled her right leg up, making the muscles strain and ache as he hooked her knee in the crook of his elbow. Her nails dug in at his shoulder blades, breaking red lines to his chest as she came undone, letting out tiny mewls and praises laced with his name.

"God damn, do that again," he growled against her throat as she clenched at his cock.

She did what he asked and was rewarded with her second orgasm, soaking it up like a greedy little pig. Her right hand gripped the back of his head, begging for his lips and he crushed them to hers, his hips making her rock. She tried to catch her breath, her barings, make some sense of the primal need to have him fuck her into eternity but the sex was just too damn good.

Dean's heat was smothering, his hips snapping hard against hers, making everything in her begin to ache, beg for a reprieve. She was blessed with the knowledge of one when his thrusts became thicker, stronger, but the pace was gone. Her hips ground against his, her pussy pulling at him, bringing him closer and closer to her side of bliss.

When he came this time, he kind of scared her -- well, he almost always scared her but this time he did it with...a roar. It was an actual roar, inhuman, guttural and dominating. It was enough to make her open her eyes, be swallowed in the inky blackness of his own; Gods be praised she was still mildly numb by orgasmic bliss or she would be freaking out.

He lowered his head to her chest, panting in time with her, his heat soaking up the sweat on her skin. She jumped when she heard a door shut somewhere in the house and shame became second in her mind, but what she really cared about was what she was holding in her arms. She wanted to relish it, soak it up, because she had yet to be able to do so. He had fallen asleep with her, touched her gently when he thought she was asleep, but she never got to just wrap herself around him without his hips still being in motion. Her fingers ran over the streaks she had carved into him, her teeth biting at her tongue to suppress that surreal sense of pleasure she got from the dim sight.

"You're leavin' with us," he told her. "Tomorrow morning."

She nodded, looking up at the ceiling. "I know," her voice was hoarse. "I gotta go by the pharmacy though --"

"We'll worry about that later," she bit on her tongue to keep quiet this time, nodding slowly as he pulled away from her.

She blinked rapidly a couple of times before she got the hint he was trying to make by -- rather patiently -- balancing between her thighs. She inhaled deeply and wiggled onto her stomach, crawling up the bed but not going under the sheets. He chuckled behind her and she squeaked when she felt teeth nip at her cheeks before he pressed her down by the small of her back.

"I knew I chose right," he murmured as he laid beside her, stroking his fingers up her spine.

 

~~~

 

"Got your shit yet?!"

Rosie cringed as she zipped up the duffel Sam had given her that morning -- well, he had actually thrown it at her. He had come into the room just as she was waking up and the yelp he gave was actually kind if cute, then she had been hit in the face with a bag and things got amusing.

Long story short -- Sam didn't take strange, naked girls well.

"Yes," Rosie called to Dean, who responded with an annoyed growl.

She could hear him stomp out of the apartment and Rosie had to take a moment to say goodbye. She wasn't getting the chance to really say goodbye to anyone else she had met in town, her friends from work, in the building. She had just gotten her sight back and had wanted to show it off, but Dean was making her leave because of something they still wouldn't tell her about. Her life had changed so drastically since that first night with Dean and Rosie was still mixed on whether she was happy about that or not.

Girls were supposed to like a little danger, but demons weren't exactly what Rosie had in mind as danger.

Still, she hefted the bag over her shoulder and turned off the bedroom light. She didn't think to ask to bring the keys to her landlord, it wouldn't really make sense with this disappearing act they were forcing her to pull off anyway. Outside, the sun was barely up and it appeared that Sam was in the same state, his head bobbing slightly as he sat in the passenger seat of the Impala; hadn't he been fully awake a moment ago?

Dean snorted as he shut the trunk of the car, making Sam jolt into awareness at the slap. "Roll your ass into the backseat," Dean barked as he rounded to the drivers side.

Sam blinked in a slight haze, looking over at Rosie before he mumbled something under his breath. Rosie chuckled softly as he stumbled out of the passenger seat and jerked the back door open, falling into the seat unceremoniously. She shut the door behind him and slid into the passenger seat, the rumble of the engine nearly drowning out the sigh she gave as they pulled away from the curb.

"Still not gonna tell me what's going on, are you," she murmured against the glass of the window.

Dean hummed as he turned on the radio, Back In Black making Rosie give a rueful chuckle. "Nope," he popped his lips on the 'P' and eases against the gas pedal a little more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is gonna be the reason I end up in the psych ward, I swear.

"I think if we round up here on Fifth we'll be okay..."

"And the luggage?"

"She's a person, Dean."

Rosie looked up from where she was twisting her fingers in her lap and caught Dean's heavy eyes over the hood of the Impala, where he and Sam were arguing over a map. They'd been at this for at least twenty minutes, complaining about a quick reach to a friend that was having some kind of trouble with a...something. Rosie hadn't really been paying attention, so she didn't hear but she did know Sam was concerned that it would be too much for her.

Dean had protested but finally conceded in driving her off course and dropping her off at this bunker they were headed to before rounding back and catching up to whatever problem was causing them so much frustration.

"You sure you'll be fine all alone, sweet cheeks," he winked at her and that roused Rosie from her half-dazed state.

Her cheeks tinted pink and she cocked her head slightly, nodding before she returned her attention to her lap. Honestly, she didn't think she would be but there wasn't much of a choice seeing as she was at their mercy for the moment...with her consent, of course. They didn't kidnap her, but they had made the girl she was disappear - or, at least, Dean had. She didn't mind, really, because that life was an old one, a boring one and Dean's was so much more interesting than the life of a timid waitress. With Dean she was alive and sexy and -

"Rosie," she jumped when she beard Sam's soft, throaty voice and gazed up at him; he was leaning in against the top of the car and the door, smiling at her. "Hey, mind if I sit up front for this stretch?"

She blinked once, twice and then shook her head slowly, wiggling out of the front seat. The leather cracked against the back of her thighs where she stuck but only she seemed to notice because no one even gave her a side glance. She slid into the back seat and Sam shut the door for her, flopping down in the passenger seat unceremoniously. Dean had already started the engine and was pulling off from the curb they had pulled up against, whistling as he turned onto a slightly deserted road - okay, it was completely deserted.

"We shouldn't be gone more than a couple of hours," Sam hummed and strummed his fingers on the door he leaned against. "Just make yourself at home..."

"I'll show ya to my room, babe," her eyes found Dean's in the rearview mirror. "Mine as well get familiar with it, you'll be there for -"

"Dean," Sam groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face, looking at his brother. "Please, just not right now, okay? I'm sure you're gonna abuse my eardrums with...noises," he said it like it was an icky taste, as she expected from a younger brother.

Dean snickered and strummed his fingers on the steering wheel, throwing the car into park. "You run back to the armory and restock the car," Dean jerked open the door. "I'll get her...settled in."

A shiver ran down Rosie's spine, the lump in her throat making it hard to swallow as she climbed out of the car. Sam had fished a small box from his pocket and had produced a key from it, taking the few steps down to a utility door while Rosie hung behind him.

Yet another trill shot up her spine when a broad hand cupped the firm globe of her ass, making her arch to her toes when he gave it a harsh squeeze. She bit her tongue to keep from squealing, but he was already past her before she could even guess what to do next. Rosie followed close behind him and Sam, her eyes adjusting quickly as lights hummed and flickered around them, revealing the bunker that sunk further beneath them. Dean and Sam shrugged down the steps to what looked like a table lit behind with a map worked into the table. There was an extensive library stretched beyond that, making Rosie's mind reel with the possibilities; not all of these books could be of just monsters...right? Even then, Rosie found the urge to study on the monsters almost irresistible. She would find common ground with these two, hopefully give her and Sam something to talk about.

"Come with me baby girl," was Dean's deep, coaxing voice in her ear, his big hand eclipsing hers and pulling her along.

Her cheeks were flushed and her belly cramped as she followed behind him, her body taught and anticipating...something. The halls were not dark, but they were far from bright as her led her into them; such tight spaces, she jumped at even his anticipated, heavy boot claps. He stopped in front of a seemingly harmless door, opening slowly like that alone would spook her - he wouldn't be wrong, really.

Inside the room was small and dark, even after he had clicked on the light, leaving her feeling vulnerable in the middle of the room. The weapons that hung along the wall were more intimidating than the demon prowling around behind her in sharp circles, all heavy looking and menacing; meant to kill. Rosie swallowed thickly, finding a reprieve in the deeply worn photo of a man and a woman, a young boy in her arms; she knew the bright green of those eyes anywhere.

"Wish I could try you out on the bed," her eyes fluttered closed and she resisted the urge to scrunch up as his lips suckled against the base of her skull. "But ya know...hunting...brother...blah," his teeth nipped at her earlobe. "Blah," he wanted into her ear, kneading the flesh of her right hip with one hand, fingers skimming the edge of her breast with the other. "Blah..."

Rosie trembled and leaned back into him, moaning softly as his hand eclipsed her breast and set to work kneading it. What was he doing to her? He was...he was intoxicating, he was driving her to thoughts she had never even thought she was capable of producing. She rolled her hips, grinding her ass back into the prominent lump in his jeans. He groaned in her ear and ducked his head, lips and tongue lavishing the curve of her jaw and making her whimper.

"You two are acting like two horny teenagers," Dean snarled in Rosie's ear and she jumped back to reality. "Dean, seriously he needs our help - we gotta go."

Dean growled again and unwillingly peeled himself from Rosie, who was still flushed and panting as she adjusted her curls, giving Sam a sheepish look. His eyes were fixated in an annoyed and almost...yeah, that was a bitch face he was giving his demon brother as he brushed past him. Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before he noticed Rosie, giving her a small smile of reassurance.

"Don't worry," Sam murmured. "I don't judge you, alright," Rosie blinked slowly at him. "I...I was in love with a demon once...its a strange feeling."

Rosie licked her bottom lip, crossing her hands over her chest as she nodded. "Yeah...yeah, it really is," common ground found, if he didn't mind her trying to open old wounds.

He gave her another fleeting smile, growing slightly serious as he fished something out of his back pocket. "It doesn't have a lot of kick back," Rosie's nostrils flared as he held out a short barreled gun; it looked so delicate. "Really meant for close combat...to get you out of a tight bind sk you can make an escape...but this is just in case something happens - but don't expect anything."

Rosie nodded softly and cradled the gun in her hand; it had looked so small in his hand. "Its...don't I need to learn how to use this?"

Sam chuckled. "Point and shoot," he arched an eyebrow. "Pretty easy - for that, anyway. If I was giving you something heavier, I'd insist on training."

Rosie nodded again and lowered her arms, gun dangling at her side. "Got it," and then she gave him her own smile. "Both of you be careful...you seem a little troubled about this, but I'm sure you can handle this."

Sam chuckled softly. "Yeah...we've handled worse," his smile faltered. "We'll be back as soon as possible - like I said, make yourself comfortable, get a feel for the layout...have a feeling you'll be staying with us for awhile."

Her lips seemed to fuse together at the sentence for some reason, though she had already made her peace with the whole deal. He left after that, Rosie firmly rooted to her place even after she heard the bunker door slam shut and echo around her.

~~~

"Ow, dammit," Rosie murmured and hurried to the sink, thrusting her finger under the cold water.

Third time she had burnt her finger, and pudding was the assailant.

Rosie shook her head softly and turned off the water, drying her hand on her shirt before she cut off the stove and moved the pudding to the side. She had run out of things to do nearly two hours ago, after exploring what she felt she was allowed to of the bunker and skimming through quite a few books and notes on demons; she figured why not and try to learn a little more about what Dean was, exactly. She had found the box of pudding in the back of one of the cabinets and her stomachs rumbling response was enough to confirm that yes, she was very hungry.

"Should have kept up with the time," she murmured and glances at the loudly-ticking clock above the door.

Rosie didn't know how long the boys had been gone, but she wished they would get back soon. She knew it had to be a couple of hours, at least, but she hadn't kept up with the clock while she trolled around. She was too paranoid to sleep, considering praying and seeing if that would bring the angel in to entertain her but she didn't want to pull him out of something important. He was an angel, he had to be doing something worth while...right?

"Lucy, we're home!"

Rosie jumped and then cursed his timing, but her heart wasn't only humming from the scare. She adjusted her shirt and raked her hands back through her hair, praying she looked decent and then went in search of the voice. They were in the archives, Sam standing in front of someone else and Dean was heading back towards the rooms. When he saw Rosie, he changed his course and was front and center in an instant, making Rosie skitter back a step. He caught her hip and drug her against him, his lips catching hers in a hungry and claiming way. But she wasn't protesting, she could have just melted right there had they not gotten a haughty throat clearing from behind them.

"I think we have more important things to worry about..." Sam started.

"I don't," Dean rumbled against Rosie's lips.

"Dean, come on you have all the time in the world -"

"Apparently not," but he pulled back, keeping his arm around Rosie's hips as he stepped to the side. "Meet Garth," he gestured to the hunched over, spindly little man sitting in one of the chairs at the long table.

He waved at Rosie. "Hi there," he looked like he wanted to chirp, but he also looked pretty shaken. "Can I..." He looked up at Sam. "I need a shower."

"Sure," Sam rumbled and looked between Dean and Rosie. "I'm gonna go get him set up, you two..." He trailed off and then waved a hand, bracing a hand against Garth's back as he stood. "Ah, you're just gonna do whatever anyway."

Dean pulled Rosie out of Sam's way and she waited with bated breath before she craned her neck to look up at Dean. His lips were against hers in an instant, but not hungry and demanding, opposing that with a sense that he was savoring the kiss; were mood swings a part of being a demon?

When he pulled away, Rosie was beyond out of breath, and it showed how her voice quivered around her words. "Wh-What...what happened," she murmured, fingers tightening and flexing in the fabric over his chest.

Dean sighed against her forehead, something that sent odd relief over her; yep, demons had mood swings like a girl on her period. "Garth lost his wife tonight," Rosie sucked in air between her teeth. "And we may have a bigger problem on our hands than what we thought...guess I gotta pray ta Cas," the thought of a demon praying almost made her smile.

"Do I...do I get to know?"

"Duh," he barked and tugged her against his side, following the path towards his room. "Not like you're gonna do much...you won't fight or anything."

She bit her tongue; she wanted to learn, but would save the option for another time. "What's the problem?"

Hesitation.

Hesitation in a demon is never a good sign.

"We think the hounds finally pulled off Ragnarok."

~~~

"Gotta say, the Gods did a shit job keeping Ragnarok out of reach."

"Dean."

"What, all I'm sayin' is that they could have made it a little harder to just make happen."

"Well," Sam scratched at the side of his head. "It hasn't exactly happened yet," he ran a hand down his face, eyes fixated on the ancient text beneath his elbow. "Garth and Bess just happened to be around, that's what was causing the tremors and the weather phenomenon - Bess being tortured and crying out. Had to upset one of the wolves guarding the gate..."

Dean looked up from his beer when Sam trailed off and didn't finish. He seemed intent on gnawing straight the the end of his pen, leaving deep gouges in his wake. Dean pursed his lips a little and then quirked the corner of his mouth before he snapped his fingers loudly at Sam.

"Hey," Sam grumbled as Dean took part in furrowing his own brow. "What else does it say?"

Sam sighed. "Says the final key is fresh face innocence, fresh corruption and pliable - which could mean anything - blinded by the light of Fenrir's gaping maw," he paused. "But not before the three roosters have crowed - and we wouldn't be able to know when that happens considering only one takes place on Earth, the other in Valhalla and the other in the Norse Hel, but I'm assuming that's still ours."

Dean hummed and sipped languidly at his bottle. "Maybe I'll take a trip downstairs, see if anything been croonin' lately," Sam went to roll his eyes, thought better of it. "Lets talk about the fresh faced thing first."

Sam scratched his chin and flipped back a few pages. "Fresh faced was properly translated from the old meaning, which was supposed to be the blood of an innocent God spilt - but the key is in mortal blood and I guess that means innocent -"

"But corrupted," Dean hummed. "Well, the first thing that comes to mind is pretty obvious."

Sam grumbled. "Always comes back to sex," he mumbled.

Dean chuckled. "Bingo," he chirped. "Which does seem most logical, plenty of people have sex and still remain innocent...weirdos," he cleared his throat. "Could be someone who had deliciously divine premarital sex, someone who witnessed a crime but had no chance in Hell to stop it - could be a number of things."

"Well, we got a month to figure it out," Sam slid a bookmark against his page, shutting the time with a firm puff. "After that, the second wolf will be awakened and then the hunt for this fresh faced thing will start."

"And why can't we stop the second one from waking up again," Dean kicked up from his chair, swilling down the final mouthful of his drink before he dropped the bottle in the trash.

"Because that's one thing that's out of our control - the second awakening. It just happens, like an uncontrollable timer is set after the first, but we can still stop Ragnarok from happening - it'll just mean some pissed off wolves that have to start their cycle again."

"I'm not even taking the obvious bait," Sam sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night. "Where'd Garth go?"

"Guess he crashed somewhere," Sam murmured as he began to flick off lights. "He can't leave the bunker, not without the key."

Dean yawned and arched his back, dissatisfied with the lack of crackle in relief of his spine. "Well, I'm gonna go get laid," he nearly skipped. "Sleep tight, lil brother," when he winked over his shoulder, Sam could have sworn he saw black.

But Dean whistled and trailed away, leaving Sam with a sick taste in his mouth. He had tried to get Dean cured time and time again, but Dean refused and Sam supposed so long as he wasn't wreaking havoc and flipping on a dime, everything was...okay. Even Castiel said so long as Dean showed no signs of losing control, he could remain as he was. Still, Sam had to feel sorry for Rosie, who appeared to be well beyond infatuated with his brother for some reason. Maybe he was using some demon mind trick on her? No...no, because Dean and Rosie had met before he was a demon and she was the first person he thought of after they had been ambushed -

Was it possible his demonic brother felt something for the girl?

Sam blinked a couple of times and scrubbed at his eye, flicking off the final light to the archives. "Stop over thinking," he murmured.


End file.
